Poetry Archives

Quhen Flora had o’erfret the firth
  In May of every moneth queen;
Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirth
  Sweet melling in the shawis sheen;
  Quhen all luvaris rejoicit bene
And most desirous of their prey,
  I heard a lusty luvar mene
—’I luve, but I dare nocht assay!’

‘Strong are the pains I daily prove,
  But yet with patience I sustene,
I am so fetterit with the luve
  Only of my lady sheen,
  Quhilk for her beauty micht be queen,
Nature so craftily alway
  Has done depaint that sweet serene:
—Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay.

‘She is so bricht of hyd and hue,
  I luve but her alone, I ween;
Is none her luve that may eschew,
  That blinkis of that dulce amene;
  So comely cleir are her twa een
That she mae luvaris dois affray
  Than ever of Greece did fair Helene:
—Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay!’